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The body is a love song to god-
To god: all the other sounds drown
When the most lovely sound,
Of the body is found;
All it’s being resounds with
I Am.
Seventy-odd times a minute-
All the while continues beating:
Blood entering, blood leaving,
The vital circuit completing;
It’s every cymbal repeating
I Am.
The lungs formed like a bellows-
To tell us: with their rhythms
What the makers own hymn is;
That wherever the air breathes and
Where chest sinks and heaves, there
I Am.
Ceaseless song always arriving-
Proof of presence: it’s reviving
From the darkness, exhuming us;
The light of god luminous:
Out of love so all- consuming
I Am.
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